Pissarro Sail

His plan was quite sound;

The old salt stood his ground.
He knew what he needed:

A batch of J.J. Cale,

Three bottles of ale,

And a Pissarro sail.

Then he would venture

Into mystical whimsy,

Like a truth log in search

Of the cleanest chimney.

Ashes to ashes;

Bashes and crashes

Set that smoke free.

Watch how it spirals.

It just might go viral

Eventually.

Funny how flames

Tell us what is true,

Form an alliance.

Was it defiance?

Or just that cliché?

Where there’s smoke,

There’s a song by The Doors.

“Come on baby,

Light my” … What?

No matches?
How can that be?

Ashes to ashes;

Bashes and crashes

Set that smoke free.

Watch how it spirals.

It just might go viral

Eventually.

Find my boom box

Put on a stack of Cale

Fetch more ice

To fill the pail.

Trim the rigging,

Hoist the sail.

Come on Queenie

Let’s hunt the whale.

Moby Pissarro

Might be a story.

Might be a song

A tad less gory.

Whatever the process

Whatever expression:

It’s totally up to you;

Totally your discretion.

But heed my advice:

Trust your first impression.

Ashes to ashes;

Bashes and crashes

Set that smoke free.

Watch how it spirals.

It just might go viral

Eventually.